


All I Can Offer

by sarcat



Category: Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-02
Updated: 2012-12-02
Packaged: 2017-11-20 02:39:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/580369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarcat/pseuds/sarcat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She doesn’t even bother looking. She’s sure that he’ll be leaving and that she’ll hear the sound of his boots as he makes his way safely down the side of her apartment again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All I Can Offer

**Author's Note:**

> So I kind of wanted to recount any of the possible highs and lows in their relationship. So a few parts are before the time-skip and then others are after. I think they are pretty obvious. Posted this on tumblr a while ago.

She’d always heard about other people tossing their significant other’s things out windows whenever they were unreasonably angry at them. She was a little more practical though, or at least she liked to think so. That was the reason why she was lugging the large box of his things away from the window she had stood idly by for the last fifteen minutes, and instead leaving it in the hallway away from her sights. She wanted none of it. He should have never left his hoodie hanging on the back of his chair when he had her mother’s Pho last week while telling her wide eyed stories of him gallivanting around his precious city with his uncle. She didn’t want that stupid arrow shaped eraser that he told her reminded him of her when he was out shopping with his mom for school supplies that one night. And that stupid photo of them that M’gann had taken without her knowledge and how it captured the dizzy look of happiness he reserved only for her while she was busy stuffing her face with cake, and just that stupid face that was dusted with freckles that became more prominent with each day that he embraced sunny summer rays (she noticed it, and loved it secretly). His face was dumb. He was dumb.

It’s only been four weeks into their relationship and he already has her slamming her door hard enough to make the doorframe rattle an echo against the walls of her room. And it feels really good. It feels better than grabbing him by the scruff of his collar and glaring daggers at him. It’s better than screaming to the top of her lungs. And it hurts less. It hurts a whole lot less when you aren’t entirely emotionally invested in someone. She tosses herself on to her mattress, face meeting the thinned comforter that she swears she’ll replace one day when she cares.  

She had warned him about saying things like that. That she just wasn’t ready for empty words that didn’t mean anything. The groan that escapes her warms the fabric surrounding each side of her face.  _I hate you Wally West_.

Her body twists to the side, eyes catching glimpses of her outstretched hand brushing against the screen of her cellphone that illuminates the dim room with soft blue hues from unanswered messages. She knows it’s him. Knows he’s trying to reach her, and probably cursing audibly at her negligence, or at least she hopes he is because she deserves it. She deserves him hating her and she hopes he’ll meet her with furrowed brows that twist in anger solely for her, at her.

Her ears are picking up the sounds of light tapping on her window, and instantaneously her hand knocks her cell to the ground with a resounding thud. The tapping becomes more urgent, sounding as quick as a hummingbirds wings beating against the wind, and she’s scrambling. Her body not caring that her leg has managed to snag part of the comforter and drag it along with her. And she’s shaking herself loose while trying to reach the window because she needs to. She has decided then, not caring that her brain was currently filtering out any form of logic as she’s tugging the foggy window up and free, a blast of chilled air smacking her in the face while unknowing hands grip her wrists for dear life. She’s hoisting him in a second later, red tuffs of hair blurring her vision as his legs continue to scramble up the wall outside and into her bedroom.

She has every right to just smack him there, to really let him have it for being so idiotic and putting her in this mess of feelings that she didn’t want right now. But he’s grinning at her. Wide and toothy, with reddened cheeks that she can only see through wisps of moonlight that filter through the open window.

“Wally, what the  _hell_  do you think you are doing here!?” she demands while taking in shaky breaths of cold air.

He lowers his eyelids almost like he’s trying to memorize the way her voice kicks up an octave and cracks when she’s really confused. When he opens them, he looks satisfied and ready. And she’s pretty sure that she’d rather be pit up against the Joker than deal with the words she knows he wants to say.

“Well, you said you never wanted to see me again. Something very odd for someone to say after their boyfriend tells them they love them for the first time. So, I wanted to see if it was true,” he answers while sinking down, back leaning against the wall underneath her windowpane.

“See if what was true?” She can already feel her heart tightening.

He leans forward, arm propped on his knee waiting for his head to rest upon his hand. And his eyes are practically rolling at her for not understanding.

“Well, obviously my dear Watson, if you really didn’t want to see me again, you probably wouldn’t have bothered opening the window. So, clearly, I wanted to test that theory. Not gonna lie, I was kinda worried when you didn’t open the window initially. Thought you might have gone to the bathroom or something, and it isn’t exactly a short fall from here.”

Her hand grips her opposite arm, turning her gaze towards her poster on the wall. “You’re insane. You know that?”

“Sometimes,” he agrees immediately, “It’s true though. Everything I said was true.” The chuckle at the tail end of it tickles her ear, and makes her shiver. “I do love you.”

“I don’t want any of it now!” she shouts back immediately with such finality that it brings an ugly silence that makes it hard to tell if he’s even breathing unless she sees the wisps of his hot breath mingling with the cold just as it escapes his lips. “I’m just not ready yet.”

She doesn’t even bother looking. She’s sure that he’ll be leaving and that she’ll hear the sound of his boots as he makes his way safely down the side of her apartment again. And she’ll never have to see him again outside of missions of course. It will be fine. Everything will be fine.

She feels it, cool fingers grasping for her own, and she has to acknowledge it, turn her head towards the tug and the extension of his arm from the space he was still preoccupying. He was still there, and maybe he really understood her. Either that or he was just as stubborn and pigheaded as she knew him to be. He’s pulling her down to his level, and she doesn’t have to wait long to see the reassuring look on his face telling her that he’s serious about what he’s about to say.

“I think I can wait.”

It’s enough. The strangle hold on her heart loosens, and maybe when she’s not terrified of losing him like she has everyone else in her life, when she knows this is stable and she won’t be the one that’s hurt, she’ll say the same thing back. But for now they can just be themselves, and she can have his shoulder and his dumb puns while she figures it out.

“I guess I should put your stuff back in my room again before my mom throws it out.” It’s all she can offer him.

—

“You’re wrong!”

“No, Artemis. You’re the one that’s wrong!”

And maybe he’s right, but she doesn’t want to admit that to him right now, doesn’t want to give him the satisfaction of finding her out.

“It was just a small lie, Wally. Why are you making this into a bigger deal than it needs to be!?”

“Because why should you even be lying to me, Artemis!? God!” The shouting stops there and he’s pressing fingers to his forehead trying to find some type of calm, but failing miserably because his hands are falling and slapping the sides of his legs in frustration a second later.

She has no answer to that, the words are as dry and empty as her mouth because she never really asked herself that question before. And suddenly she feels so awful, hoping beyond hope that he can accept her apology, can accept the feel of her hand trying to find his by sneaking past his arm and wrist.

He’s pulling her hand up, so that she can see their fingers interlaced and perfect. Home.

“We can’t keep doing this. We can’t keep going backwards, Artemis.” And the way he’s saying her name hurts her more than any kick to the ribs.

She’s nodding her head in understanding, clenching his hands and making promises that she hopes aren’t lies.

—

She hasn’t said a word to him since this morning. Well she has, but only if absolutely necessary. Quick phrases that alerted him where he needed to go in order to make this mission successful through the great expanse of their mindlink, their only real connection since their argument. And he’s trying to shove it towards the back of his mind, trying so hard to make the bite of his words sound less horrible than they did when he said them.

He can see her from his current position, a few meters to the left, concealed by the trunks of trees to their enemies as she knocks an arrow. The fletching is firm in her grasp that pulls the string taut, a whisper away from her face. And the mission was simple enough. Prevent the loading of the cargo while maintaining cover and without blowing anything up. That’s how all missions should go. They should go smoothly.

But they never do. There’s always something that compromises their position, and that very thing is rustling leaves right in front of him, the glint of a knife reflecting the light of the pale moon. He’s advancing on her.

 _Artemis, there’s…_  he starts, but never finishes because she’s following him with a quick retort.

 _Not now, Kid_. It sounds so annoyed, and grating in his mind, but he presses on.

_No, you have to-_

_I don’t have to do anything, Kid Mouth. So shut up and let me concentrate on this shot._

He’s already moving, and it’s almost like he can’t get there fast enough even though it seems like he’s gliding between the blur of his feet and the ground before he’s sinking below the oncoming swing of metal that threatens to end her. He’s just in time, scooping her up, arrow misfiring and planting itself into one of the canisters they were meant to recover. The subsequent explosions that follow send heat that rises upwards licking against sweaty skin, and he just has to move a safe distance from the flames that threaten to engulf them and the entire forest. 

The entire time, the material of her retractable bow is smacking him hard against his back with each bounce against the earth. And her arms are fixed around his neck while her face has taken refuge into his shoulder to avoid the whipping wind that his run has created. The threat is a safe distance away by now, feet slowing to a normal jog before skidding on mud he had not seen in his line of vision.

He falls hard on his butt, taking the brunt of it all as she lands on top of him with latched arms that force his head back into the mud. The groan that escapes him after she accidently presses her elbow into his ribcage has her hands scrambling for earth as she attempts to sit up, but he’s always faster and he’s got a hold on her that keeps her exactly where she is, half straddling him. He liked the position.

“How long was that guy standing behind me?” she asks while her stormy eyes try to find anything but the apple green irises that she refuses to acknowledge.

“Long enough,” he says while he watches her bow her head in defeat, blonde ponytail sweeping past her shoulders and landing in a pool by his right elbow.

“And the shipment is blown up, right?”

“Yep.”

“I guess I’m going to have to explain this to Batman, aren’t I?” she asks with a half-smile that almost makes him forget that this is the longest she has willingly communicated with him all day. It’s her special way of saying without saying that she’s sorry for being angry, for putting them in this situation, for being half responsible for him falling in the mud that will likely take hours to wash off when they finally get back.

“Pretty much. We really have to stop making these covert missions not so covert,” he utters while trying to brush a speck of mud from her cheek with his seemingly forgotten muddy glove. His thumb just brushes a bigger splotch on her cheek instead, but it never stops her from being any more beautiful than she already is.  

She sighs as the feel of their mindlink is spreading comfortably in her mind, reestablishing itself by touching the edge of her mind that she is comfortable with M’gann knowing.

_M’gann we’re fine, but we had a bit of an accident._

—

He must miss it. He must really miss the way his sunny Kevlar feels like home on his skin. He must miss how it feels to be responsible for saving lives. He must miss the adrenaline of the run, and the way it coursed through every vein to every muscle and made his limbs run at speeds most could only dream of running if they could remember them. And it all must be true because there’s no indication of him removing his cowl anytime soon. He’s not even removing his gloves as he sits at their table, brows knit as he sits deep in thought. It looks agonizing, so she has to ask him everything.

“How did the mission go?”

She’s not sure he’s even really acknowledging her because the look he gives her is so distant that it makes her step back in hopes of falling back into his favorable gaze.

“A mess. I don’t even know where to begin,” he huffs out while bringing a hand to meet unruly hair that he’s neglected to get cut in the last week. He’s brushing it back before sinking his head into his hands, rubbing at his face.

“But didn’t you say you were going to be with your uncle? It couldn’t have possibly been-“

The sound of his fists connecting with the wooden table top frightens the words back into her throat, and she can’t remember him ever being this angry, or clenching his fists this vehemently, or him ever having the scowl that is now taking over his face at the mention of his uncle.

She finally finds the nerve to say something. “Is your uncle okay? Did something happen to him?”

He’s looking away from her, almost like he’s sorry for his behavior, but he’s still on edge. His limbs are humming along to his frustrations like he’s ready to bolt from his seat and run himself to the next state until he’s fully exhausted and his muscles are aching the way he likes them to.

“Let’s not talk about him right now. He seems pretty happy without me. Even has a new sidekick. Yep, everything is great,” he says as he lets the sarcasm drip from his lips.

“You don’t exactly sound like sunshine and daisies, babe.”

He stands up so fast she’s almost forced to forget that he was sitting just a nanosecond before.

“Of course I’m not okay!! Didn’t you hear me just say that he has a new sidekick? It’s someone faster than me. Someone who can keep up with Barry. Someone related to Barry by blood. Someone who saved his life tonight while I just ran around waiting to be carted away to safety because I’m slow!” The fury in his gestures and the hurt that is oozing from every pore in his body is making her say the wrong thing at the wrong time.

“But why do you even care so much, Wally!? You gave it up!” And it sounds so logical, but she’s biting her tongue immediately when she sees a flash of pain reflecting back at her from his apple green eyes. His hands feel for the edges of his cowl before he’s pulling it up and away from his face, and she can finally see the faint line of dirt and sweat that is now outlining skin that was left exposed tonight. And she’s sorry. She’s sorry that she even said a thing because now his gloves are being thrown haphazardly to the ground as he’s passing her.

“You know what, Artemis? You’re absolutely right.”

The door to their room slams shut shortly after. And it ends up being a day and a half before she ever learns about Bart, where he’s from and how he got here and how he made Wally more uncomfortable with himself than anyone ever could.

—

He’s only four weeks old. He’s nothing more than a ball of short fur and giant eyes that practically take up most of his head. And his tongue is permanently stuck half outside of his snout because his head is still so small and he can’t force all of his tongue in yet. It makes everything even more unsettling when she starts shaking with the empty leash in her hand, and Wally’s here. He’s here to just let her have it, she’s sure. Reaffirm his initial thoughts about why it probably wasn’t a good idea to get a puppy yet while they were just entering one of their tougher years of schooling, and she just doesn’t want him to talk. She doesn’t want him to say a thing because she’s done enough self-loathing to last a life time and she doesn’t need his words right now. So she’ll beat him to it and be as rational as possible, and there won’t be any tears. Absolutely none.

“I know what you want to say. You’re going to rub it in my face. You’re going to make that face that you make when you’re annoyed at me and then to top it all off-“

His hands are on her shoulders before she can finish her sentence, and he looks bewildered and hurt by any and all of the things that she said and was going to say about him in that moment.

“Artemis. Artemis! Do you really think that I would say or do any of those things? Please, tell me that you’re just upset about losing Nelson and that it’s not really how you think I would ever respond to you, ever. Please?”

His words are crushing her, and maybe she just wanted him to say all of those horrible things to make crying more reasonable because she never wanted to cry over a dog. She didn’t want to bury her face into his jacket as she listened to the clatter of the leash on uneven pavements, but it’s cool and refreshing against heated cheeks. He’s peeling her off him instantly, thumb outlining the curve of her cheek as wiping at the remaining tears that refused to dissolve into his shoulder.

“Hey, come on! You know we’ll find him. Those short legs of his couldn’t have gotten him too far. Probably realizing now that he’s lost you,” he says while he lets her go, bending to pick up the leash she dropped.  

“But I looked everywhere for him,” she admits pathetically, and she wondered when exactly she had allowed herself to ever be this open and emotional in front of him.

“We’ll look again. And put up posters if we have to. Just no more tears, okay? They don’t suit you. Besides you need the energy to help look for him.”

Its hours before they finally find him, tucked behind one of the trash cans sitting in front of their apartment complex. Wally theorizes that she must have known where home was. She likes that theory too. Coincidences were just stupid.

—

“Come to bed.”

She turns until she’s facing the back of the couch, hand idly waving him away as she curls into the blanket she’d pulled from the closet.

“You can’t sleep on the couch.”

“Let me correct you. I deserve to sleep on the couch. Actually, I don’t even know how you can stomach the sight of me right now. You really deserve better than me. I’m the type of girl your mother should be warning you about. Stubborn. Rude,” she rattles on while peering past her shoulder.

“Yeah, she did warn me. She said to make sure I don’t let those girls out of my sight,” he responds while pushing lightly on her side, the exact spot where she’s most ticklish, and he can see her toes curl while her stomach spasms.

“You probably weren’t listening to your mother. And stop that. I am not budging. I hurt you, and the couch is what I get.”

He pulls the blanket off of her in a quick motion that has her screeching at him instantly, but they die down as soon as he gestures her to move over. And in an instant they are comfortable in each other’s warmth, her back to his chest as he slings an arm over her after settling the blanket on top of them both.

“I forgive you this time.”

And his lips are curling into a smile that she can register from the way it is pressing into her shoulder.

“You’re ridiculous.”


End file.
